


Constants

by cavaleira



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavaleira/pseuds/cavaleira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dick doesn’t know what the future holds, but he’s content with the knowledge that he can face anything as long as Bruce is there beside him."</p><p>A series of vignettes about Bruce and Dick's relationship through the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mundanemagicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mundanemagicks/gifts).



_one._

The chill of evening air sends shivers up and down Dick’s bare legs as he darts across city rooftops. Cars honk and people’s voices filter up from the street, but it all seems so far away when he’s up here with Batman, who moves like a dark, rippling shadow against the bright lights of Gotham’s skyline. Flying with Superman is fun, but nothing compares to flying with Bruce, swinging between skyscrapers.

It’s been a good night. They stopped some muggings, interrupted a store robbery, and made some major headway in building a case against the Penguin in the latest scheme he’s cooked up.

When Dick’s parents died, he lost everything and thought he’d never feel whole again. But by some stroke of luck, Bruce Wayne came into his life, someone who’d gone through the same thing and truly understood. When Dick was lost, Bruce was there to help him find a purpose, to focus his energy toward doing good in the world, helping others so they never had to experience the horror he did.

Dick never feels more alive than he does on nights like these, when they’re out patrolling as Batman and Robin. They make a great team, and he’s proud of the work they do together. Bruce has helped Dick in more ways than he can count, but Dick has helped Bruce, too. He’s shown Bruce that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore, that he has a partner by his side he can always count on.

“We ought to turn in,” Bruce says, once they’ve settled on another rooftop and stand side-by-side, staring out at their city.

“Aww, do we really have to go back already?” The night is young and there’s so much more to see and do, so many people out there they can help.

“I guess we can stay out a little longer,” Bruce says, his lips curving up just a little bit. It’s not an over-the-top Brucie Wayne smile or even a sarcastic Batman smile. It’s a real one, that particular secret smile that’s reserved for Dick alone.

With a whoop of laughter, Dick leaps from the building, letting the wind carry him before shooting off his grapple hook. The sound of Bruce’s grapple rings out as he takes the leap, too. Bruce is a solid presence right behind him, always there to support him and catch him if he falls.

Dick doesn’t know what the future holds, but he’s content with the knowledge that he can face anything as long as Bruce is there beside him.

 

_two._

Dick sits at his computer console, typing up his surveillance notes for the evening. The clack of his keyboard is loud as he types, pressing the keys with far more force than necessary. Working usually helps calm him down, but he’s been at it for an hour now and is still fuming. When Bruce gets in, Dick will have a few choice words for him.

Another 20 minutes go by until the cave vibrates with the rumble of the car pulling in, followed heavy footsteps and the fluttering of Bruce’s cape as he approaches. Dick spins around in his chair, crosses his arms, and levels Bruce with his hardest glare.

“You went out after the Joker. Without me.”

“I did. I still haven’t figured out exactly what he’s planning, but I will soon.”

“I can’t believe you, Bruce! There’s no reason for you to go after him on your own. Something could have happened to you and no one would have been there to have your back.”

“I was fine. And I needed you on surveillance at the Iceberg Lounge.”

Dick snorts. That’s a load of crap and they both know it. The Penguin just got out of prison again and he’s not stupid enough to do anything that might draw unwelcome attention so soon.

“I hate it when you shut me out. Just because the Joker shot me in the shoulder last time doesn’t mean I can’t handle this case.”

Bruce glares at him, pulling the cowl down so there’s no buffer between Dick and those piercing eyes. “This is not up for debate and there’s no reason to get all snippy. What’s wrong with you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

They both turn away from each other in a huff, Dick going back to his work and Bruce sitting down at the main computer to get started on his own. A tense, uneasy silence settles over them like a funeral pall.

It’s just another example of the way their relationship has become so strained. They’ve been butting heads all the time, poking and pushing each other’s buttons. Alfred says it’s normal, just growing pains because Dick is nearly a man now and things are changing. He’s probably right because Alfred is right about most things. Still, that doesn’t make the current situation any less miserable.

Dick would never renege on his responsibilities in Gotham, but he’s been spending more time with the Titans whenever he can. It’s nice to be around people who respect him as an equal and get some breathing room away from Bruce. Still, putting more distance between them hasn’t really solved anything because the conflicts they’ve been having recently are only half of the problem.

The other half is that the hero worship of Dick’s younger days has transformed into something else entirely. Dick doesn’t just admire Bruce, or look up to him. He _wants_ him. Every day, he aches to run his hands across Bruce’s bare skin, to kiss him and feel rough stubble against his cheeks. It’s not that Dick hasn’t kissed people before. It’s just that everything seems to pale into comparison to his lurid fantasies of Bruce.

While the old, easy camaraderie between them is still there beneath the surface, it’s almost always difficult to be around Bruce these days. Dick doesn’t know whether he wants to kick Bruce or kiss him. Probably both.

They’ve never talked about Dick’s “thing” for Bruce. He’s taken to calling it that, for lack of a better word. Calling it a crush sounds stupid, like he’s in elementary school or something, and infatuation sounds too pretentious. Whatever it is, Bruce has never acknowledged it and Dick isn’t sure if he’s even realized it’s there. Bruce hardly ever dates and when it comes to romance he’s nearly inscrutable, even for someone who knows him as well as Dick does. That doesn’t stop Dick from imagining what it would be like if Bruce felt the same.

He catches Bruce looking at him sometimes and wonders what’s going on in his head. Is it possible that Bruce has unspoken feelings he’s burying deep down? Is it possible that Dick is not the only one who lies in bed and night, wishing to have the courage to slip down the hall and ask for something more?

Dick sighs. It’s late and he should turn in and get some rest, but he hates fighting with Bruce and doesn’t want to go to bed with tonight’s argument still hanging over them. As badly as Dick longs for more, he’d settle just for the uncomplicated closeness they used to share. Sometimes he feels like Bruce isn’t there at all, that he’s somewhere distant and unreachable where Dick can’t follow.

“Hey, Bruce?”

“Hm?”

“You wanna spar?”

Bruce stops what he’s doing and looks up at Dick. At first Dick thinks he might say no, but he nods and gets to his feet. Dick smiles as relief floods him. He’s glad Bruce saw his gesture it for the olive branch it was. Even though he’s not great at showing it, Dick knows that Bruce cares, and he’s not happy about the way things stand between them either.

They take to the mats and when the match begins it feels so easy, so familiar. They get caught up in the rhythm of combat and for the first time in weeks, Dick feels like they’re on the same page. With every movement, he feels more connected to Bruce and before long, Dick finds that he’s actually having fun. Though Dick often spars with his friends, nothing compares to the rush of sparring with Bruce. He’s been getting better and better over the years, and he loves the quiet look of pride on Bruce’s face when Dick gets the drop on him.

After dodging and deflecting a series of punches, Dick decides to mix things up and try something a little bit more obscure. Dick switches styles into Bando, a Burmese martial art that focuses on counter-attacks and skillfully drawing your opponent out.

Dick throws a thrusting punch that Bruce easily blocks, leaving Dick open to counter him with a kick. A quick circular block lets Bruce him grab Dick’s leg and throw him, but Dick is agile enough to use that momentum to spin and push forward with a viper strike. When Bruce deflects and goes into a coiling punch, Dick is ready for him, quickly side-stepping and twisting to knock Bruce’s feet out from under him.

They tumble to the ground in a heap and when the dust settles, Dick ends up on top of Bruce. Dick knows he should get up. He should crack a smile and help Bruce to his feet, but all he can focus on is his half-hard cock pressing up against his cup. Their eyes meet and Dick’s whole world is distilled down to this moment, pinned down by the intensity of Bruce’s stare, breathing in this strange, new tension that crackles between them.

_It’s now or never._

Dick takes the leap. He leans down and presses their lips together, pours all his pent up desire and yearning into it. When he breaks the kiss, Bruce stares up at him, his cheeks flushed and lips parted. There’s a heat in Bruce’s eyes Dick has never seen before, something dark, dangerous, and all-consuming. It’s gone before Dick can even process it, snuffed out in an instant.

Bruce shoves him away and stands up. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you think?” Dick says as he scrambles to his feet. He’d hoped something more eloquent would come out of his mouth, but the rush of endorphins makes it hard to concentrate. His whole head is buzzing and he can still feel the residual warmth of Bruce’s lips against his own.

Bruce sighs. “Dick, you’re 17 years old and I’m your guardian. Anything like that happening between us would be wrong.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Bruce, me or yourself?” Dick says, which earns him a sharp glare. “And why does it have to be wrong?” Dick takes a deep breath and steels himself.

_It’s now or never, remember?_

“Bruce, I love—”

“No. _No_. This is a phase, Dick. Give it time and you’ll meet someone better, someone more… appropriate.”

Dick can’t imagine who could be better than Bruce and he doesn’t care about what is or isn’t appropriate. He could swear that for a split second there Bruce didn’t either. He doesn’t think he was imagining that brief flash of hunger in Bruce’s eyes before they went distant and cold.

“I know what I want. I’m not a kid, Bruce,” Dick says, hating how petulant he sounds, and well aware that he’s not doing himself any favors.

“Yes, you _are_ a kid and you’re too young to know what you want. This…this can never happen. Don’t ever do something like this again.”

“Bruce—”

“End of discussion.”

“But—”

“ _End of discussion._ Now go hit the showers and get cleaned up. It’s a school night.”

“Fine.” Dick’s throat burns, and any other words he might have said die on his tongue. He’s already been humiliated enough tonight, there’s no point in prolonging the misery.

Remorse flickers in Bruce’s eyes and he looks at Dick as if there’s more he wants to say. In the end, all he does is offer a quick “good night,” slip on his cowl, and go sit down to work at the computer console.

Dick walks away with his head held high despite the fact that his heart breaks a little more with every step. He manages not to cry until he’s in the shower, letting the warm water wash away every trace of tears.

He wonders if Bruce would be proud.

 

_three._

The cave is deserted when they arrive, empty of everything except for the distinct sights and sounds that make this place so special: the delicate interplay of light and shadow against stalactites and the scritch-scratch of bats, the quiet hum of servers and computers, the echo of their footsteps in the cavernous space, the swish of Bruce’s cape and his solid presence at Dick’s side. These things never stopped being reassuring, even though Dick may be wearing black and blue these days instead of red, yellow, and green. At the end of the day, this place is and will always be home.

With Tim out of the country and Alfred asleep upstairs, Bruce and Dick have the cave to themselves. It reminds Dick of the old days, the hours they spent down here so lost in the training, the mission, and each other that it felt like they were the only two people on earth. Sometimes those memories are sharp and painful, but tonight they are a comfort, the past clinging to him with soft, gentle hands.

It’s been a quiet night, one of the rare ones when Gotham is kind to them and the weight of history between them doesn’t feel so heavy. Their relationship was strained for years after the night Dick kissed Bruce. They both dealt with it in their own ways, Dick by working through his anger and leaving to become his own man, and Bruce by vacillating between feigning indifference and being overbearing and trying to exercise control over Dick’s life from afar because he didn’t know what else to do. They’ve come a long way since then, found common ground, and repaired the worst of the damage.

The topic of romance between them has only come up once since then. It was another quiet night like this one, turned sour when Bruce started awkwardly apologizing for the way he’d handled things before. When he’d said Dick shouldn’t be ashamed of having felt that way and started going on about how it made sense in terms of his psychological development, Dick quickly shut the conversation down. It was still a sore point for him, and the last thing he wanted was Bruce trying to explain his feelings away.

Dick has had other relationships in the meantime, but they’ve always fizzled out due to one simple fact: Dick is still in love with Bruce Wayne, and he will be for the rest of his life. He’s made peace with it, as much as he can.

He knows that Bruce loves him, that he values Dick and needs him in his life. The problem is that the nature of his love is fraught and complicated by the masks they wear, the roles they play for the world, for themselves, and for each other.

Sometimes Bruce will look at him with what almost seems like longing. It makes Dick wonder if he’s been reading the situation all wrong, if Bruce doesn’t just love him, but is also _in love_ with him. But the moment always invariably passes and Dick is reminded that Bruce’s feelings are a gordian knot that he can’t even begin to untangle. Dick tells himself that the form Bruce’s love takes is irrelevant and on good nights like tonight, he can almost believe that’s true.

They walk further into the cave and Dick makes short work of his mask and gloves, while Bruce takes off everything except his bodysuit and boots. More comfortable now, Bruce sits in front of the computer and starts typing up patrol notes. Dick sits beside him on the arm of the console chair, seamlessly interjecting his own comments and observations to be added to the report.

“Alfred made chocolate chip cookies, by the way,” Bruce mutters, gesturing toward the small table where they sometimes eat meals when they’re too wrapped up in work to eat upstairs.

“That’s because Alfred is the best,” Dick says as he bounds to his feet. The cookies are the perfect golden brown and smell heavenly when Dick leans down and breathes them in. He brings the plate with him when he takes his place beside Bruce again. Dick stuffs an entire cookie in his mouth and moans with pleasure as the flavor explodes over his taste buds.

“You’re lucky Alfred isn’t here to see you eating like this.”

Dick merely grins, picks up another cookie, and takes another huge bite. Bruce shakes his head with disapproval as he watches Dick chew. “Come on, Bruce, aren’t you gonna have one? Not even Batman is immune to chocolate chip cookies.”

Bruce sighs and picks up a cookie. “I’m only doing this to keep you from joking about how justice is the only sustenance I need.”

“First justice, and now cookies. I’m proud of you for adding another food group and expanding your palate, Bruce,” Dick teases. Bruce rolls his eyes and lets out that soft huff of laughter that means he’s truly amused. Dick loves to see him like this, the terrifying Batman who strikes fear into the hearts of villains everywhere—and quite honestly most of the superhero community too—eating cookies and laughing at Dick’s dumb jokes.

“You should visit Gotham more often. Alfred misses you.”

Dick nods and smiles. “Yeah, I should. I will.” He can read between the lines and he knows very well that it’s easier for Bruce to use Alfred as an emotional proxy for his own feelings.

“You working on anything new?”

“Always,” Bruce says, the ghost of a smile on his face as he heads toward the area of the cave that functions as a workshop for prototypes. Dick follows behind, always curious to see what new things Bruce’s clever mind has come up with.

Dick wanders around, taking in the new versions of batarangs and grappling guns, pieces of a batsuit probably made out of some cutting-edge kevlar weave, new engine parts, and car schematics meticulously drawn in Bruce’s handwriting. He pauses in front an open case that holds a pair of escrima sticks embossed with silver circuitry.

“Are these made with Nth metal?”

Bruce nods. “I got the idea when you told me about the case you worked with Jason Blood a couple months ago.”

Just the memory of it makes Dick groan. “If I never see Klarion the Witch-Boy in my city again it’ll be too soon.” Bruce’s hatred of magic is well-documented and after the way Klarion gleefully wreaked havoc on Bludhaven, Dick now understands that dislike on a visceral level.

“I know you don’t deal with magic often, but it never hurts to be prepared, especially when dealing with such an unpredictable force. With the way Nth metal disrupts magical properties, it could give you a leg up. Once I have the design worked out, you’ll also be able to use them to stun and set off an EMP.”

When Dick doesn’t say anything, Bruce shoots him a quick glance. It would read as impassive to anyone else, but Dick knows what Bruce looks like when he’s worried, when he’s honestly afraid he might have pushed too far.

“Unless you don’t want them, then—”

“No, I do. I… thank you, Bruce. It’s not even my birthday or anything, you didn’t have to.”

Bruce shrugs. “I wanted to.”

Dick carefully picks one of the sticks up, the weight and balance of it unsurprisingly perfect in his hand. He swallows around the lump in his throat, touched by Bruce’s gift more than he can say. No matter how much Bruce tries to pretend this isn’t a big deal, it’s clearly not a task that was taken on lightly. Dick can imagine the time, the care, the money, and the expertise that went into it, the favors Bruce probably had to call in to get his hands on Nth metal in the first place.

When Dick first left the manor to strike out on his own as Nightwing, he might have bristled at such a gesture. He might have snapped at Bruce for being overbearing, for making gear for Dick as if he can’t take care of himself. They’ve both come such a long way over the years and Dick is grateful for it.

“They’re still just a prototype, I have a lot more work to do. When I’ve made more headway we can test them out and make changes.” The gruff, almost apologetic tone in Bruce’s voice makes Dick’s chest warm with affection for him, this stubborn man who is so often kind and almost always uncomfortable with that kindness being acknowledged.

“It’s okay, I’m sure they’ll be perfect,” Dick says as he carefully puts the escrima stick back in its case. “You wanna spar anyway?”

“You’re not tired?”

 _I’m never too tired to spend time with you_ , Dick doesn’t say. He cracks a joke instead, that trusty deflection technique he knows he can always fall back on.

“If anyone’s tired it’ll be you, old man.”

Bruce snorts. “Okay, then. You’re on.”

“Alright,” Dick says with a grin.

Dick casually does a couple handsprings on their way over to the training mats and he can feel the weight of Bruce’s gaze on him with each movement. Bruce says nothing, but his fond exasperation is palpable and it makes Dick grin wider.

The mats squish under Dick’s feet as he takes his place opposite Bruce. Dick smiles and sees a matching amusement in Bruce’s gaze when their eyes meet. They bow to each other and then the match is on, a flurry of bodies in motion. It feels like flying and every point of contact between them is electric, Bruce’s brute strength against Dick’s grace and agility.

Sound echoes and the cave fills with the cacophony of heavy breathing and complex footwork across the mats. They both switch styles constantly to keep each other on their toes, everything from karate to taekwondo to jujitsu. Dick throws in a few capoeira moves for variety, grinning all the while. He’s always enjoyed sparring with Bruce, but he can’t remember the last time it was so unabashedly fun. Bruce is quiet, but the slight smile on his face gives him away. He’s definitely enjoying it just as much as Dick is.

Dick tries a roundhouse kick, but Bruce catches his foot, forcing him to spin and twist to get away. The movement triggers a memory and gives him what is quite likely a terrible idea. Dick knows he shouldn’t, that reminding them both of that night will probably ruin this one. But there’s something in the way Bruce has been looking at him tonight, a quiet fondness in his eyes that makes Dick want to take the risk. All Dick can do is jump; it’s up to Bruce to catch him or not.

Dick switches to Bando and when he sees an opening, he throws the same punch and kick combo he did all those years ago. To his delight, Bruce catches his foot and throws him, a recognition and continuation of that sequence they followed. Each movement is another step in their intricate dance and it feels like a conversation, like Bruce is answering a question Dick never intended to ask again.

Dick is prepared for the coiling punch that will trigger the end of their match, but Bruce feints instead and knocks Dick’s feet out from under him. Dick struggles to catch his breath after having the wind knocked out of him, because this time it’s Bruce who ends up on top.

“You remembered,” Dick says. A complex series of emotions flickers in Bruce’s eyes, almost too quick to decipher, but Dick knows Bruce well. He can see the self-loathing and guilt, but also a desire and longing so familiar that Dick feels like he’s looking into a mirror. Bruce leans closer and Dick’s heart races so hard he thinks it might beat out of his chest.

But Bruce doesn’t kiss him. His expression shutters and he moves to climb off of Dick, but Dick is having none of it. He rolls and flips them over so that he’s on top of Bruce, panting and staring down at his impassive face.

“No, you don't get to walk away from me, Bruce. Not this time,” Dick says in a tone that brooks no argument. Sometimes it’s better to leave Bruce alone for awhile to work through his feelings, but he’s had five years and Dick has waited long enough. He was a scared and uncertain kid back then, but he’s a man now, a man who knows who he is and what he wants. There’s no way he’s giving up without a fight this time, not now that Bruce’s true feelings are so obvious.

“This was a mistake,” Bruce says, but he doesn’t move, despite the fact that he could push Dick away if he really wanted to.

“You want me. You want this.”

When Bruce refuses to meet his eyes, Dick grinds his hips down and they both groan at the sensation. The thought of how much better it might feel if they weren’t wearing cups makes Dick’s heart race.

Bruce clenches his jaw and levels Dick with his patented Batman glare, but Dick has long since developed an immunity to it.

Bruce’s expression softens and he sighs. “If you insist on having this conversation—”

“I do.”

“—then I’d rather not have it with you straddling me.”

“If I let you go are you going to try to run away and avoid me?”

“No.”

“Okay, you better not,” Dick says as he reluctantly rolls off of Bruce, missing the heat of his body immediately. Part of him wants to just pin Bruce down again and kiss him, but he knows they need to actually talk about this. Everything will fall apart again if they don’t.

A tense silence hangs over them both as Dick tries to figure out how to proceed. Bruce sits up and refuses to meet Dick’s gaze. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about this and his patience and restraint are legendary; he will wait Dick out forever if he has to. Unfortunately for Bruce, Dick is also incredibly stubborn when he wants to be.

“Alright, go ahead, Bruce. Tell me all the reasons this is wrong, and this can’t happen.”

Bruce frowns and gives him a sharp look, but Dick just glares right back at him. Bruce’s eyes fill with resignation as he realizes that Dick won’t back down unless he plays along.

“I was your mentor, Dick. I practically raised you.”

“Yeah, so what?” Dick says with a shrug. “Relationships change.”

“Not like this,” Bruce scoffs. “It’s weird. Undeniably so.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Everything we do is weird, Bruce. Since I was a kid we’ve been dressing up and going out to fight crime every night. Dating each other wouldn’t even be in the top ten weirdest things either of us has experienced.”

“I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll hurt you, too. We’re human, we can’t help it. Denying this didn’t stop us from hurting each other in the past, and it won’t stop us from hurting each other in the future.”

“I’m not good for you. You know what I’m like, Dick. What if—”

“No,” Dick says. Bruce could go on like this all night and Dick has had enough. “These are all bullshit reasons, Bruce.

Bruce’s eyes narrow. “So tell me then, what would constitute a legitimate reason to you?”

“You, being able to look me in the eye and honestly tell me you don’t want this.”

Bruce looks away and says nothing, his silence answer enough.

Dick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not great at this either, Bruce. No one is. But you and I… we’re partners. Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Bruce says, turning to meet Dick’s eyes.

“Then follow my lead this time. That’s all I’m asking you to do.” Dick extends his hand, palm up in offering.

Bruce’s hand is warm and rough with callouses when he reaches out and laces their fingers together. Several moments pass in silence as they stare at their joined hands.

“ _Dick_.”

Bruce cups Dick’s face in his hand and runs his thumb across Dick’s bottom lip. He touches Dick with the utmost tenderness, like he is perfect and precious, like he is _everything_. Dick’s breath catches in his throat, and he feels a rush of love for Bruce that’s almost too intense to bear.

Dick can hardly believe this is real, that he’s finally getting what he wanted. The stubborn bravery that got them to this point has deserted him and he’s frozen in place. In the end, it’s Bruce who closes the final distance between them and presses their lips together.

When Dick lays back and pulls Bruce down on top of him, he lets go of any residual nervousness and gives himself over to the kiss completely, to soft lips and the slick heat of their tongues. He and Bruce know how to read each other’s body language well, and it seems kissing is no exception. Each hungry kiss leaves Dick feeling more lightheaded, but he doesn’t care. Breathing is overrated anyway.

“I… we should go upstairs,” Bruce says when they finally break for air, but Dick shakes his head.

“Later. Right now, I just want you here.” Part of it is his desire to live out his teenage fantasy, but it also just seems fitting that their first time be like this, in the cave but not fully in their superhero personas, straddling the line of their identities.

They make short work of their clothing and when they’re completely bare, the heat of Bruce’s gaze settles like a physical weight on Dick’s skin. Dick has seen Bruce naked many times before, but never like this. Never flushed and breathless, his cock heavy and hard because of something Dick has done.

He grabs Bruce by the shoulders and yanks him on top so they can feel each other skin to skin. Slow kisses and caresses build in urgency until their hands are everywhere and they grind up against each other in fevered desperation.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want,” Bruce says, his voice a low growl.

“Fuck me,” Dick chokes out. “God, Bruce, just fuck me. I want you to.”

“Yes, _anything_.” Bruce leans in a gives him a fierce kiss before pulling away and starting to get to his feet.

Dick reaches out and grabs his wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce says, a little smirk on his face as he slips out of Dick’s grasp.

Dick takes time to appreciate the view, watching the way Bruce’s muscles ripple with every step as he moves around the cave. Bruce grabs something from his utility belt and something else from a desk drawer before returning to Dick.

“You keep lube in your utility belt and condoms in the cave? Wait, why am I even asking you that, of course you do.” He’s also tempted to ask Bruce if he had a formal contingency plan for this exact scenario, but he’s distracted by the sight of Bruce slicking his fingers with lube.

Bruce starts with one finger and then quickly adds a second when he sees how eagerly Dick opens for him. His fingers are thick and they rub and scissor inside Dick just right. When Bruce adds a third finger, he starts stroking Dick’s cock in perfect tandem with his thrusts, and it feels so good that it makes Dick’s eyes roll in the back of his head.

“Oh god, you have to stop,” Dick gasps. “I don’t want to come until I have you inside me.”

Bruce stops moving his hands, but he keeps staring at Dick intently as if he’s memorizing and cataloging every detail of this moment.

“Also, we’re definitely doing this again, Bruce, you don’t have to watch me like this is the only time. I’m not going to change my mind,” Dick manages to get out in between heavy breaths. “And you better not either. No more pretending to be allergic to feelings, not about this, not with me.”

“I’ve wanted you.” Bruce’s voice is raw, as if the admission is physically painful. “It took everything I had not to kiss you back that night. I thought you’d grow out of it, that we’d never… I thought it would be better if I let you go.”

“I swear, you’re such a fucking martyr sometimes, Bruce. Now come on, I’m ready,” Dick says, spreading his legs wider and practically vibrating with anticipation. Bruce doesn’t hesitate anymore, quickly and efficiently rolling on the condom and pushing the thick head of his cock against Dick’s hole. He pushes in with a slow but inexorable slide, and Dick can barely breathe from the white hot pleasure-pain of it all.

“Oh god, Bruce, _please_ ,” Dick says once Bruce is finally all the way inside. He knows he’s being shameless, but he doesn’t care. He’s waited long enough for this and he’s damn well going to enjoy it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, keep going, don’t you dare stop.”

Bruce gives a few shallow thrusts before pushing deeper in a slow, steady grind. And it’s good, it’s so fucking good, but it’s not enough.

“Come on, I can take it, I’m not going to break,” Dick moans. Bruce’s thrusts are still slow and measured, but there’s more force behind them now, enough to make Dick’s toes curl in pleasure. Bruce’s pupils are blown, his hair damp with sweat, face flushed, and lips swollen from kisses. He is beautiful and Dick wants to burn this image into his mind forever.

For his part, Dick has never felt as desired as he does now. Bruce—who usually has at least a dozen things on his mind at once—is devoting all of that terrifying focus to fucking Dick down into the mats and he never wants it to end.

They’re slick with sweat, breathless and moaning as Bruce drives deep inside and Dick arches up to meet every thrust. He’s aching for Bruce to go faster, and he’s not above playing dirty to get what he wants. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Dick prepares to flip Bruce over so he can get on top and ride Bruce’s cock, but Bruce is ready for him.

“No,” Bruce says as he grabs Dick’s wrists and pins him to the mat.

Dick smirks. “Yes, sir.” He was only joking, but he’d have to be blind not to notice the way it made Bruce shudder. Dick files that observation away under “things we'll definitely have to revisit later.”

Bruce releases Dick’s wrists and grabs his hips, titling them up and changing the angle until he’s nailing Dick’s prostate with preternatural focus while Dick throws his arms around Bruce and fiercely grinds his hips to take him deeper.

“I’m so close, god Bruce, _fuck me_ , just like that,” Dick rambles on, barely coherent now. He wraps his legs around Bruce’s waist, crossing his ankles at the small of Bruce’s back and urging him on. The sound of heavy breathing and their slap of skin reverberates through the cave. Dick rakes his nails down the expanse of Bruce’s back, which makes him hiss and fuck Dick even harder.

“So good, you feel so good,” Bruce groans. He reaches down take Dick’s cock in his hand, stroking him mercilessly.

“ _Harder_. Fuck, Bruce, I love you, I love you so fucking much,” Dick says, overwhelmed by the feeling of Bruce on top of him, around him, inside him. They lock eyes and the climax that’s been steadily building hits Dick then, back arching as he comes all over his chest and stomach. Bruce’s hips stutter as he loses control too, a low moan torn out of him as he shakes and comes deep inside.

Dick briefly registers Bruce pulling out and getting up, probably to dispose of the condom. Soon enough, he sinks down on the mats next to Dick again and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. Dick leans in closer and lazily traces his fingers through Bruce’s chest hair. They’re both sticky, covered in sweat, scratch marks, and come. It’s absolutely perfect, and Dick has never felt more alive.

“Well,” Dick says with a happy sigh, “that was definitely worth the wait.”

“I’m glad.” Bruce’s eyes are suffused with warmth when he looks at Dick, as if Dick is everything he’s ever wanted and he can’t believe his luck. There is very little Dick wouldn’t give to have Bruce look at him like that forever.

Dick cups Bruce’s cheek in his hand and leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet. When they break for air, Dick playfully punches Bruce in the arm. “And don't try to hide from me again, wherever you go I'll find you.”

“I won’t. I’m yours, for as long as I have and as long as you'll have me.” Bruce looks at him with open, unflinching affection and in that moment, Dick understands what it means to be completely seen and loved by someone.

 

_four._

Dick towels off his hair and slips on a comfortable pair of sweats and a t-shirt, the fabric soft and warm against his freshly showered skin. It felt good to strip out of the batsuit, to get clean and wash the grime of Gotham away. Dick yawns and tosses his towel in the hamper before making his way upstairs into the manor.

Dick was tempted to stay out later, but he’s exhausted and still recovering from being shot in the head. He can’t say he really feels too bad about turning in a little early; between Tim, Damian, Cass, and Steph, Dick knows that Gotham is in the most capable of hands.

Through some miracle, Bruce is alive and Dick is grateful to have him back home safe and sound after his bizarre time travel adventure. He still isn’t back to full strength quite yet, but he’s getting there. Bruce slept for several days when he first got back, and now it seems like half of the superhero community is nagging him to rest despite his complaints. Dick appreciates the support; getting Bruce to relax is a nearly impossible task and he can use all the help he can get.

Between working with the Justice League and the rest of the family, Bruce and Dick haven’t really had much time to talk. Dick could have tried harder to make time, but he hasn't. Instead, he’s been running himself ragged as Batman and falling into bed every night, too exhausted to do anything but wrap Bruce in his arms and pass out.

Though Dick has every intention of doing just that, his feet end up leading him across the hall to his old bedroom, which has become a sanctuary of sorts to him over the past couple weeks. All he wants is a moment alone to breathe, but when he opens the door and turns on the light, someone is already there waiting for him.

“You've been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t. I see you all the time. We sleep in the same bed every night.”

“I know you. I know the difference between your real smiles and when you're performing.”

Dick sighs as he walks through the threshold of the room and sits down on the bed next to Bruce. “I see you’ve been indulging in your penchant for sitting in the dark. How long have you been waiting here?”

“Not long. The tracker I put on you let me know when you came home and I also set up some commands on the computer to notify me when you finished typing up your notes after patrol.”

“Aw, I forgot how creepy you are, B. I missed it,” Dick says, a little surprised by how much he means it. Dick scoots close enough to enjoy Bruce’s body heat, but he says nothing.

After several moments of silence, Bruce clears his throat. “You know that I’ll sit here all night if that’s how long it takes you to talk.”

Dick scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. He wants to crawl into bed and forget about everything for a few hours, but there’s no way Bruce is going to let this go.

“Fine. You want to know why I’ve been avoiding you? It’s because I thought you were dead, and I didn’t look for you. Tim is the only one who thought you were still out there somewhere. I promised I would always find you, and when you needed to be rescued, I wasn’t there. I didn’t believe in you. I didn’t believe in us.”

Dick hangs his head, his heart heavy under the weight of compounded guilt. Bruce pauses for a long moment, a thoughtful expression on his face as he considers his words.

“So, let me get this straight: you became Batman, and you saved lives. You mentored a child in need and taught him how to be a hero, you were able to reach him in a way I wouldn’t have been able to even if I’d been here. You did all of that and kept going, despite dealing with your own grief. And yet you think it wasn’t good enough, and that you betrayed me in some way?”

“I… basically, yeah.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous. I can’t think of a better way to honor me, to honor _us_ and everything we both stand for.”

Dick swallows around the lump in his throat and rests his head on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Leave it to you to be all logical about it,” Dick grumbles. He can feel Bruce’s soft laughter vibrating through him. “You’ve been different since you came back, you know. I mean, you’re still a stubborn bastard but you’re a little less grumpy and you smile more. It’s a good look for you.”

“Good to know,” Bruce says, and his lips are soft when he presses a kiss to Dick’s forehead. Quiet stretches on and they lapse into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying being in each other’s space.

“I thought about you all the time, what you would do or say in certain situations. I didn’t always follow your imaginary advice, of course, but it was… it was nice. Even though you were gone, sometimes it felt like you were still with me.”

Bruce hums in acknowledgment. He doesn’t need to say anything for Dick to know that Bruce would have felt the same if their roles were reversed. No matter what, they are a part of each other, down to the marrow of their bones. They are perfect complements, stretching to fill the gaps and empty spaces in each other. They are both teacher and student, leader and follower, friends, family, and brothers-in-arms.

_Partners._

“You have nothing to feel guilty about. And if you want to have a competition over feeling guilty about things you can’t control, there’s no point. We both know that I’ll win, so don’t bother.”

Dick laughs. “You know, I never really thought I’d see the day where _you’d_ be more emotionally adjusted about something than I am.”

“Being omega-sanctioned does wonders for your perspective,” Bruce says with a wry smile. Dick smiles back and it hits him then that this is real, that he has Bruce back.

Dick throws his arms around Bruce and clings to him tightly, his eyes pricking with tears as he finally succumbs to the reaction he’s been holding at bay for weeks. Bruce holds him close in a steady embrace.

“God, I missed you so fucking much. Don’t ever die on me again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bruce says, the curve of his smile warm against Dick’s brow.

“You promised you were mine for as long as you have and as long as I’ll have you.”

“I did. I still do.”

“Good,” Dick says, blinking back tears as he pulls away just enough to look Bruce in the eye. “Because I intend for that to be a very long time.”

 _Forever_ , is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back. Dick knows that in this line of work, forever is a gift neither one of them has the power to give. They can’t even promise each other tomorrow, but they can promise each other right now. They have today and all their yesterdays, moments upon moments bound together in a common, constant thread through their lives. They have each other, and that is more than enough.

 


End file.
